


Precipice

by EmeraldSage



Series: Juxtaposition [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, And might not, Ever - Freeform, Family History, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It hasn't happened yet, Ivan gets a surprise, Like, M/M, My OFCs!, RusAme, The Kirklands are IMPORTANT, Very much implied tho, plot progression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 21:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11135013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: He was standing on the precipice of a cliff, and the flux of the wind would either ground him to reality or throw him down into the abyss he was trying so hard to keep away from.  Soon, it was too soon.  But he didn't have a choice any more.It was beginning.





	Precipice

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how well this thing flows, to be honest. But I hope it works well!  
> To understand some of this chapter, you might need to read Chapter 5 of The Life and Times! It has some of the Kirkland Family History. More notes at the end of the work!

            It was past midnight, and the moon was high in the cloud struck sky when a loud knocking jerked him from his bed.

            It was disorienting at first, hearing the panicky pounding on the door. But then Ivan jerked awake next to him, wild-eyed and snarling, his protective instincts rearing themselves viciously, and he had to center himself quickly. Alfred snatched his sweatpants from the floor, dodged his mate’s protective grasping arm, and slid them on before making for the front door.

            Ivan, of course, was only a few seconds behind him, pulling him close as he eyed the front door. He huffed, frustrated, before stilling.

            A familiar scent trickled into his nose from behind the closed door, and he suddenly _knew_ who was behind the door. He tore himself from his mate’s protective hold, ignoring the furious order that was barked at him to _get your ass back here, Alfred_ , and bolted for the front door. He wrenched it open, and stared.

            Frantic citrine orbs set in a familiar face met his gaze desperately. The vivid forest green cloak swished around the anxious figure, almost black in the inky darkness.

            “ _Alfred_ ,” he heard his mate snarl from inside, loud stomping indicating his incoming approach, and the figure in front of him flinched but didn’t move. The gaze turned increasingly desperate.

            “I didn’t know where to go,” the figure voiced hoarsely, and he heard his mate freeze, just out of view, “I didn’t know what to _do_. I…” the voice trailed off in an aborted sob, and Alfred reached out and wrapped his arms around the other.

            “Come inside,” he said softly, barely audible, and felt a knot in his chest loosen when the figure slumped in his arms. He could feel the tension radiating off of his mate, the violet eyes radiating displeasure and reluctant curiosity out of the corner of his gaze.

            The moment the door closed, the hood flared and fell, pushed back by pale, shaking hands, and the slender, elegant face of the mystery figure was revealed. He heard his mate’s sharp inhale of surprise, but he paid no attention to it. He clasped the other’s hands in his own.

            “Maeve,” he said, almost relieved, “how did you get here? Lady Áine hasn’t let you come visit me after the first incident.”

            “I haven’t seen Lady Áine in years, Alfie,” she said, sighing as Alfred led her to the couch in the living room. “I’ve been living with Aunt Madea for the last few years. They’re only a few hours away, but I told them I would stay with a friend in town until the mating race.”

            Alfred’s eyes widened, “You’re eligible this year.” She nodded wordlessly, distress in her eyes. “They’ve picked a match for you.” Another nod confirmed his thoughts.

            “He’s such a brute, cousin,” she bemoaned, “He’s a self-righteous prick with a superiority complex the size of the Isles themselves! And he’s so _crude_! I overheard him boasting about my various… _assets_ , in front of his thugs once my aunt made the match. It’s awful, Alfred. He’s horrible!”

            He winced, thinking of the dominants that his distant family would often introduce him to when he would visit them, and felt a well of sympathy swell in him. “He’s running here? Have your parents not contested it?” Not that he was sure they would, but at least, it would buy them time while they contacted the mated pair.

            “They wouldn’t, even if they could,” she said bitterly, “They’ve been so excited to see me mated off. They have their heir to the line, they don’t need a giftless submissive.” He winced again, more noticeably to his mate.

            “You’re _not_ giftless,” he said sharply, and she just laughed, face pale and drawn. “You _aren’t_ , Maeve. I don’t know why you’ve never told them – ”

            “Yes you do,” she interrupted him, a smile lighting on his lips. “But it wouldn’t matter, either way. The _elders_ called them to ensure the match.”

            The sharp inhale was his this time, eyes darkening, and Maeve’s grip on his hands tightened sympathetically.

            The elders were interfering. No wonder she’d come to him.

            He could see the pale, harried cast to her face, even in the pale darkness of the room. Maeve was right to be worried, he knew. She was beautiful, powerful, socially elite, but in spite of the fire that burned in her eyes, she always presented herself as the perfect submissive. Dominants from around the area panted after her. The elders lauded her as one of the prizes their small town had to offer.

            Alfred himself had been considered a prize by the elders, and by most of the pack, for many of the same reasons: his familial connections, his power, and his skills, even despite being considered far too dominant and radical for a true submissive. And if he, who’d been scorned and judged and found lacking, had been subject to the elders’ manipulations and forced into the mating race, he had no doubt that they would do the same to her. He had no doubt that they already had.

            There was a moment of silence between them, and he could hear Ivan in the background, his breathing level and even, but gaze piercing him from the side. The silence was heavy, even then, and he could feel something cresting around them. A window of opportunity had opened up, and it was _early, far too early_ , but if he didn’t act now he would lose too much – he would lose Maeve in a way no submissive should be lost.

            “I can get you to Lady Áine’s if you think she’s safe,” he heard himself say, as if from a distance, “But you can’t stay there after the race is run.”

            Maeve’s head shot up, her citrine eyes trained on him, impossibly wide. He heard something crunch behind him.

            “Alfred?” she asked, almost incredulous. And he could hear what she was trying to ask him, wordlessly: _are you really going to do this?_

            _Why else did you come to me, Maeve?_ _When you knew I couldn’t leave you to your fate?_

            “No,” Ivan nearly snarled, startling the both of them, but only Alfred could feel the restraint his mate had put into his expression for the sole purpose of not scaring Maeve, who was unused to his temper, “I will _not_ have you risk yourself that way.”

            Alfred’s eyes narrowed as the turned to face his mate, “You certainly don’t get a say,” he said, almost blasé. Maeve gaped at him.

            “I,” the violet-eyed wolf hissed, “am your _mate_. _Everything you do_ is because I allow it of you. And _this_ , I will not allow you to do.”

            “ _I_ ,” he snapped, “am my _own_ person! I’m doing this because I need to. I can’t let them get _away_ with this, Ivan! They’re _meddling in the mating race_. That’s beyond illegal – that’s _heretical_! It’s bad enough they did it for me – ” and suddenly, his mouth snapped shut, face paling slightly. He hadn’t meant to say that.

            “ _What_ did you say?” Ivan’s voice was deathly quiet, “ _What. Did. You. Just. Say?_ ” Alfred just shook his head.

            _This wasn’t happening right now_. This _couldn’t be happening._

            “We can’t do this right now,” he finally snapped out, even as Ivan loomed over him, something pained and angry in his violet gaze, “We have to focus on what’s going on right now.”

            Ivan’s heavy, displeased gaze bore into him, the aura fluxing around them, and he could feel Maeve shrink away behind him, despite her discomfort with the instinctive reaction. But, _thank Mother Moon_ , Ivan had noticed Maeve’s fright, and it had calmed the fringes of his anger. He felt a knot in his stomach relaxing, even though he knew they were far from done with this topic.

            “You shouldn’t be _doing_ anything, Alfred,” his mate said, a low growl in the tone of his voice, “I don’t know if you understand what you’re trying to do. You’re helping an unmated submissive run away from her family. _Before the mating race_. Do you have any idea what would happen to you if anyone ever found out?”

            Flashes of a long buried dream filtered through his mind. Leering faces jumped out at him, vicious, victorious smirks staring down at him, the words of _guilty_ and _treason_ , and the hands that held him down for a nearly inescapable, indescribable punishment until he pushed the dream from his mind.

            Ivan had no idea. He had no idea how much Alfred knew about what would befall him if he chose this path. He’d known since he was a child. But it wasn’t going to stop him from helping, from taking action. And Ivan could read his answer in the look on his face.

            Maeve needed him. His people needed him.

            Ready or not, he was _going_ to act.

            “You’ll do this whether or not I approve, won’t you?” the elder wolf said shrewdly, eyes still as dark as the midnight around them.

            He swallowed but stood firm, “I will. But Ivan…I think there’s something you need to know about my family.”

* * *

            _“…can I tell you anything, Evie?” Maeve scrunched up her nose at the dreaded nickname, but caught Alfred’s oddly serious look, and stopped._

_“Of course you can, Alfie,” she replied, a little surprised he had to ask something like that._

_“And you wouldn’t tell anyone – not even our parents?” he pushed, and now the look on her young face was curious. There was rarely anything serious that Alfred would keep from his parents – his pranks didn’t count, of course._

_“Promise,” she swore, and she meant it._

_The ten-year old bit his lip, curling into himself in a manner that was distinctly unlike himself, and now Maeve was **very** worried about her friend. Alfred was rarely ever quiet like this, rarely ever so hesitant – he was the picture perfect example of an outgoing dominant cub ready to present. She’d never seen him so **timid**._

_“I’m going to present soon,” he said quietly, and the almost casual way he said it floored her as much as what he’d actually said. That wasn’t something you just told anyone! Some presenting cubs didn’t even tell their parents when they felt the event approaching!_

_“Why is that a bad thing, Alfred?” she wondered, because there was definitely something in Alfred that was worrying her. Presenting was supposed to be an honor. It was the milestone that cubs waited for eagerly; their ticket into the real world that awaited them, and for dominants, it was even more so. She was only nine and a half, but she knew that much!_

_“Because,” and his voice was **trembling** , barely audible, and she felt a wave of foreboding wash over her like the dread that had lodged itself into her stomach, “I don’t think I’ll be a dominant.”_

_The silence that fell between them was heavy, and she could barely breathe._

_“…that’s **not possible** ,” she breathed, almost a full minute later. “There’s never been a named Kirkland from Calynn’s line that’s been natured a submissive! How can you even **think** that, Alfred?!”_

_The look he gave her told her that he really didn’t need the repeat of their history lessons, thank you. “I know,” he snapped, and she could see his temper and the desperation in him churning when he looked at her, “I hope to Mother that you’re **right** ; that I’m being ridiculous, that it shouldn’t be possible…” He shuddered, and his voice faded._

_Her brows furrowed, “What am I missing, Alfred?” she demanded, “What makes you so sure you’ll present as a submissive? No one is **ever** sure of what they’ll nature as.”_

_“My dreams,” he whispered, and even though it was nearly the summer solstice, she felt an icy wind wrap around her, sending chills down her spine that she worried had nothing to do with her thoughts and everything to do with the entranced glaze that came over blue eyes._

_“Alfred?” she asked, and felt something clench in her stomach when almost vacant eyes turned to her. “Alfred, are you alright?”_

_“They speak to me,” he said softly, “My dreams tell me of things I’ve never seen, Maeve. They show me the things I can do, the things that have been done before me…and for the longest time, I thought they were just dreams.”_

_She swallowed. It wasn’t uncommon for **her** family to have odd gifts in their line – her distant aunt, Lady Áine, who’d sponsored her move here, closer to the main family, was a seer, though few knew outside the family – but they were expected to. They descended from Arian of the Isles, Calynn’s submissive brother who’d been born with all his mother’s gifts and without a wolf. But Alfred was of Calynn’s line, and while her own abilities had been strong, she had been unquestionably a wolf, and her line had never boasted the true gift her brother’s had._

_“What makes you think they’re not,” she asked after a moment of pregnant silence._

_“The voices…they always call me the same thing,” he said, and he was almost determined now, “always, without fail. But I’ve never heard anyone else call me that, so I thought it didn’t matter. Until Lady Áine cornered me yesterday and gave me a book to help me transition…and called me ‘summer’s child,’ just like they do.”_

_He pulled out a book from the bag at his side in the grass, and she felt slightly faint when she saw the title was about how to transition after a submissive presentation._

_“For years,” he whispered, “I’ve watched myself – older, stronger, and bitter, Maeve, so bitter – and what I do was never consistent. I’ve seen myself pulling pranks, working with my parents at the shop, and studying at university…but every time I see myself amongst other wolves, I **know**.”_

_And she doesn’t know, because he doesn’t tell her then, doesn’t want to worry her – but seeing himself amongst other wolves isn’t the limit of his dreams. She’s worried enough about his upcoming presentation, how devastating it will be to his family and his future… that he doesn’t dare say a word about what else he sees._

_He doesn’t speak of the rebellion he sees in the future; doesn’t say a word of how he sees himself at the forefront of the legion of submissives brimming with hope at the chance of a different future. He doesn’t say that he once saw her at his side, taller, leaner, knife-sharp and deadly; beautiful in a way he’d never ever considered his truest friend. He dared not breathe a word about the elders vicious smirks as he’s forced down to his knees before a council of dominants, the words “ **Guilty of high treason against the Pack** ” echoing in his ears like the death sentence it should be but **wouldn’t** be because of how they could use him otherwise, use him against the rebellion that he’d brought full force against them, and the mind shattering terror that wrapped around him the first time he woke from that dream and **knew** that it wasn’t a dream._

_And he definitely doesn’t tell her of the violet eyes that haunt him at night; the gleam of the moon’s blessing renewed in the man that mirrors her so passionately, an icy sort of beauty and masculinity that holds him captive so willingly that he wants to rage against it. He doesn’t tell her of the love in that gaze, doesn’t mention the reason he’s so sure is because of the arms he could feel wrapped around his waist when he’s at least a foot taller than he is now, and the words echoing in his mind of love, support, and a promise of **change** in the wind._

_She watches him and the way his mind wanders, and she knows there’s more to it that he doesn’t dare say to her. She’s only nine years old, turning ten after he turned eleven, but she’s smart enough to know that some things are better kept quiet until they made sense. Something in her tells her this will be important – **he** will be important – and she has never been lead astray by her ancestor’s gift to her, so she listens to it._

_Alfred had been her first true friend, and she had been his. He has always had her loyalty, and that wouldn’t change even if he natured submissive._

_“Stop sulking,” she demanded of him, determined now, “If you’re submissive, you’ll be the best, most badass submissive there ever was or will be. You’re Alfred, you won’t let them get away with any of this bullshit.”_

_He looked to her, startled, but then he smiled his full tooth smile, missing front tooth included, and she felt something ease within her. They hugged it out on the front lawn, and she held out longer than usual cause Alfred couldn’t use the excuse that ‘dominant’s weren’t supposed to like hugs!’ anymore, cause he wasn’t one._

_From where they were splayed on the front lawn of the old castle manor, they couldn’t see that throughout their intense conversation, someone had been paying keen attention to them. Lady Áine had been watching them the entire time._

_And even though Alfred would confront her, years later, about her interference in a variety of things, he would never have known of the triumphant grin that crossed her face in that moment._

* * *

            Ivan’s mind had been racing since he’d been woken in the early hours of the morning, and for once, he wished he could just shove everything he’d learned into a darkened corner of his mind. He was distracted, edgy, angry, and scared – though he’d never admit the last one to anyone – and he just needed something to wear himself down so he didn’t go home and take the anger out on his mate. Alfred’s words and actions may have inspired the anger that was bubbling in his veins, but he did love his mate, and he just needed a little longer to let the rage calm. He wouldn’t be able to handle things sanely otherwise.

            The summons from the elders that came at work hadn’t really helped anything. He felt paranoid: it was like everything he was doing was being watched, like they _knew_ that he’d watched his mate single handedly call into action a dormant, quite frankly _terrifying_ network that had taken a young submissive and folded her into their numbers, hiding her far out of state in order to free her from being mated.

            He’d watched his mate transform from a bratty, teenage submissive with a fire he’d never seen before into a commander, a leader.

            Suddenly, he saw a young leader with fire in his eyes, a legion of supporters behind him, chin high and _daring_ anyone to call him less than everything he was.

            It was more that image shaking, disconcerting at the highest level; it was humbling beyond belief. And for a dominant, more than that, an _unquestioned_ authority in the community… seeing his mate assume a role with such command, such power, with a fire barely banked behind his eyes as he mobilized…it had been jarring.

            He couldn’t say that his distance from his mate this morning hadn’t been from the way he was reacting to the side of the younger he’d never seen coming, and, quite frankly, he _should have_.

            And then, there was the comment about their _mating_ …

            “ _They’re meddling in the mating race! That’s beyond illegal – that’s heretical! It’s bad enough they did it for me – ”_

            He breathed in sharply. Alfred had sworn to explain it, but he didn’t know if he wanted to hear the answers that were waiting for him.

            His mind was preoccupied, so he didn’t notice at first when the elders’ secretary cleared her throat. He blinked the second time, though, and she directed him to go through with a slightly respectful but mostly dismissive look.

            The three of them were waiting – the same elders who’d come to visit him at his home only a few months ago – and they smiled when he came down.

            “Ivan,” Elder Conan greeted him jovially, the smile on his face even brighter than the sly, meaningful ones on Lucian and Adela’s faces.

            “Elders,” he greeted deferentially, “you summoned me?”

            “Oh yes,” Adela commented, almost casually, which set him on edge right away. There was nothing casual about Elder Adela. Ever. “We have a bit of news we wished to share with you.”

            “Fortuitous news,” Elder Lucian beamed, clasping his hands together, startling him, “But blessed, by the moon herself, or so it seems. It could mean only the best for you and your mate, child.”

            That eased his mind a bit; something good for him and Alfred couldn’t be _too_ bad. But then, he thought of the way the elders thought of Alfred, and suddenly his wariness increased, just a tad.

            “No need to fret,” Conan reassured him, having spotted the concern, and well aware of the reason for it, “It is good news. It seems our pack leader has decided that, upon the mating race of his youngest son next year, he will retire from his position. He has named you as one of his potential successors.”

            For a moment, he didn’t register what he’d been told. It dawned on him slowly, when their expressions remained elated, that not only were they _not joking_ , they were _excited_ about this situation.

            He was in the running for pack leader.

            _Breathe_.

            “You’re a powerful young dominant,” Elder Conan continued, obviously noting his stunned hesitance, “and more than that, you’ve got more experience and success in leadership and pack skills than most other dominants. You’ve still got a bit to learn, but there’s always going to be the old leaders available for advice, and we’re looking for a realtively young dominant who’d be able to take the reigns for some time before they pass them on.”

            “And aside from that,” Adela cut in, “your mate is the youngest of the named Kirkland line, and the only submissive they’ve ever produced to date. That in and of itself grants you a status that most wolves cannot stand up to. You _caught_ a Kirkland, when the moon adores them and magic supplements their abilities. That hasn’t happened since the original mating chase.”

            Thinking of what his mate had revealed to him earlier about his family history, he wasn’t at all surprised that that fact was more important than he’d originally thought it was.

            _Our gifts are from the moon_ , he’d whispered to him once Maeve had left, _from our ancestor, the moon’s first blessed, and from their first child, Calynn of the Moon. But our gifts are also of magic, of the Isle that bore us for generations before the first Mage was born upon her shores. Even centuries, millennia, after the first mating, magic smiles upon us still. And though we’re of Calynn’s line, magic swirls within us as much as it does Arian’s line. Maeve’s family._

            “Pack Leader’s proposed me for his successor?” he asked, mostly for clarification, but also to solidify that in his mind. The elders smiled.

            “He’s certainly made it clear that you’re the favorite to win,” Lucian said with a sly smile. “We’ve already spoken with your pack back in Russia to get their confirmation for your participation. It’s not the first time we’d have a foreign leader for the pack, though it helps you’ve been here for nearly a full decade.”

            “What do you say, child?” Elder Conan asked him, once Lucian’s information sunk in.

            Wordlessly, he did the only thing he could think to do. He nodded.

* * *

           The secretary watched the intimidating dominant leave, an almost stunned daze coloring his aura, and she refocused on the stack of papers in front of her. She spent the next half hour sorting through the elders’ paperwork and making careful notes of what was most important for them to deal with and what they needed to delegate. After the half hour had passed, she checked the traffic report – the main street was backed up for at least an hour – before grabbing her wallet and setting up the ‘back in a sec!’ sign on the counter of the greeting desk.

            She made her way to the hallway of to the side, passing the two vending machines, before using her employee card to swipe into the employee bathroom. She stepped into the second stall – the one that wasn’t working properly and hadn’t quite been cleaned as often as the other one – and flipped open her wallet to pull out her phone.

            Her hands were shaking as she unlocked her phone, flingers trembling lightly as she dialed the familiar number before she put the phone up to her ear, pushing the volume down so she could only barely hear the ringing in her ears.

            Finally, there was a click, and she was connected. A cheery voice, somewhat subdued, greeted her, and she smiled shakily. “Hello, Freddie,” she said warmly, not having to feign the warmth in her voice, “It’s been set into motion.”

            There was silence on the other end, before the reply came, soft and barely audible, and she nodded in silent acquiescence, before she hung up. She slid her phone back into her wallet, tucked her wallet into her upper pants pocket, before flushing the toilet that didn’t work, and so wasn’t bugged, and stepped out of the stall.

            She washed her hands, dried them, and stepped out of the door, letting it slip closed behind her. She stopped in front of the vending machine, putting in the money for a bottle of water to give her a reason for taking her wallet with her, and walked back to her desk without a single hesitation. She pulled the sign down from the desk, set her wallet back into her bag, and smiled at the next person who walked through the door.

            Miles away, but not that far, a young man leaned against the wall, blue eyes sliding shut as the world seemed to freeze around him, hands clasped in front of him in a silent prayer.

            _It had begun_.

* * *

           He waited until Ivan had retreated to his study before he slumped against the hard, unyielding wall of the kitchen. Dinner had been painful, even worse than breakfast had been, and he knew that at least had been his fault.

            Things had been tense this morning, after they’d been assured that Maeve had fled the town and he’d known that their relationship would suffer if they let things be as they were. At that point, though, Alfred hadn’t had any other choice but to leave things be. Ivan had stormed from their home with an edge of disgruntlement and latent fury shading his countenance, and Alfred had kept quiet and away from his mate as the elder had all but demanded of him.

            He’s not hesitant, nor is he scared to trigger the wall of dominant bullshit that his mate usually has issues with around him. But what they’d done last night wasn’t something for the faint hearted, and while he’d been surprised, he’d been prepared for it eventually. Ivan had had no prior warning, and it was so far out of the realm of possibility for him that Alfred was far from surprised that this was the result.

            Telling Ivan about his family had probably pushed things over the edge. Everyone knew that the Kirkland family was descended from the first werewolf. While other werewolves had been similarly blessed, they had been the daughters and sons of the first, and that had given them a strength in the blessing that few others received after them, with a prestige that followed suit. That prestige was a known benefit, and Ivan had mated him knowing of the benefits he’d receive as having mated into the family. But the other part of the family history – the one that stayed within the family at all costs – was something he hadn’t anticipated needing to tell Ivan for years yet.

            But even then, he’d thought everything would calm down. Everything, he’d thought, would be fine by the time they retired for the evening.

            He almost burst into hysterical laughter.

            Ivan wasn’t ready, his mind told him grimly, and his eyes slid shut as he breathed. The weight of the wall behind him kept him steady and sure, even as his thoughts wandered. Ivan wasn’t ready, but he’d helped Alfred get Maeve out of the city – out of the state – where she’d be safe. Lady Áine would take care of Maeve, keep her safe, but it couldn’t last forever. It would be one of the first places they would go.

            It was too _soon_ , he thought with the barest hint of despair, before he shoved it away with an expert precision that he’d developed years ago. It was too soon to bring everyone in; it was too soon to begin the process he’d dreamt of for as long as he could remember.

            _Revolution_ , the voices of the world whispered to him, their enchanting hum wrapping around his thoughts and his heart in a limitless blend of excitement and heady anticipation. _Soon_ , they sighed, _too soon, but you must act. You have no choice now, child_.

            He stood on the precipice of the abyss. If the wind blew in his favor, he’d walk the edge of the cliff and court the favor of his targets for just a little while longer – long enough to destabilize the pack elders’ control and allow Ivan to sway the ones he wouldn’t be able to. Ivan hadn’t told him – wouldn’t tell him for a while yet – but he knew his mate was in the running for the Pack leadership. Ivan would need that position to protect himself from the backlash that might come from Alfred setting off the minefield he’d been building within their society.

            But Ivan wouldn’t have that position for another few years, at the least, and things had already been set in motion.

            He was on the precipice, and the wind was pushing him into the black embrace of the abyss beneath him.

            He breathed in, long and deep, and tried not to taste ashes from the past on his tongue. He had to succeed. He _must_. There was no other choice.

            Or he’d just be another visionary to be burned on the pyre of his dreams.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Aine: an Irish goddess of summer, wealth and sovereignty. She is associated with midsummer and the sun, and is sometimes represented by a red mare. Deities of the sun are often associated with prophecy and foresight.  
> Maeve: “she who intoxicates,” the warrior queen  
> Alfred: Elfin King/Sage  
> Kirkland: one who lives on land belonging to the church  
> Lady Rhian Kirkland: (magic maiden - English) the first Kirkland who married the first werewolf  
> Arian: Rhian Kirkland’s eldest son, and the brother to the first Kirkland werwolf, Calynn. Name means Magic (Welsh)  
> Calynn Kirkland: Rhian Kirkland’s daughter, sister to the Arian, who was a submissive Mage instead of a were. Name means Power (Gaelic).


End file.
